"They're quite a pair." He grew thoughtful. "I knew Risk flew to Frostproof on occasion, but never realized the reason behind his visits. After meeting Jacy, I understand his frequent flyer miles."
"They're amazing together." Soft strains of "Endless Love" sifted through the crowd. It was a slow-dance song that had couples whispering in each other's ears, brushing discreet kisses to parted lips. Stevie's heart squeezed. The words echoed Aaron's pledge of love. He'd sworn he couldn't live without her. The man had lied.
Zen cut her a glance. "Thinking of Aaron?" She sighed. "The music draws a lot of memories." "You need new memories to replace the old," he said with conviction. "Pretend you're having a good time, and maybe you will. Dance with me, Stevie?" It was more statement than question.
She hesitated. "What about your hamstring?" "It's pulled, not paralyzed. I can shuffle around the floor."
They set their empty champagne glasses on the corner of the bar, after which Zen laced his fingers with hers and drew her onto the dance floor. Surrounded by a crowd of other dancers, he pulled her close. Not uncomfortably close, but close enough for her to feel the man beneath the suit.
It had been years since she'd been held by a man other than Aaron. Yet, Stevie felt Zen's pull. The contact felt good. Maybe even a little too pleasurable.
As his arms tightened about her, her body sought a natural fit against his. Her cheek pressed his shoulder. Her nipples poked his dress shirt. Pretend or not, she had no control over her body where this man was concerned. He unnerved her to the point that she teetered on her heels, one heel catching the leather instep on his dress shoe.
Zen winced and set her away from him. "Take them off."
Stevie blinked. "Dance in my stocking feet?"
"As a precautionary measure."
She gripped his arm, bent, and slipped off her shoes. Zen took them from her, and stuffed them in his suit coat. The heels bulged out his pockets.
Once she was in his arms again, they swayed to the music. The man had some nice moves. She followed him easily. A turn. A dip. An exchange of smiles. Without her heels, Stevie rested her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat. Rhythmic. Strong. She tried to relax, tried to think beyond Aaron Grayson.
Zen made it easy for her. "Who was nicknamed the Mustache Gang?" his voice murmured near her ear, warm and deep and a bit husky.
This she could handle. "Oakland A's. Owner Charles Finley paid his players to grow mustaches during the 1970s."
He brushed his chin against her temple and nodded approvingly. His male heat sifted into her, momentarily soothing her wounded pride. Aaron's image blurred with his next question, "Who was called the Big Train?"
She tilted her head and met his gaze. His expression was so warm and encouraging she couldn't look away. "William—no, Walter Johnson," she quickly corrected. She'd been focusing on Zen's mouth and not on her answer.
The man had sexy lips. Strong and masculine with a hint of softness. A mouth no more than a hair-breadth from her own. "Who hit sixty-one homers in'61?"
Stevie couldn't think straight. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he touched his mouth to hers for a single heartbeat to whisper, "Roger Maris."
However brief, his kiss jarred her. His breath was warm. His taste rich with champagne. Her interest spiked, along with her desire. In that instant, she saw beyond the intelligent, smartly dressed man; felt the intimate pull of his male animal.
A maleness so tangible, it touched her deeply.
Her stomach fluttered and her skin flushed, rosy and hot. Zen sparked an appeal she couldn't deny.
It was utterly terrifying.
Stevie's sexual shiver struck Zen Driscoll like a lit match. He'd felt their connection. The twist of attraction that sparked her nipples to hot little darts left him too stiff to dance.
When the slow song ended, he set her from him, relieved that the band announced a short break. "Did you reach your goal for the recreation center?" he asked, making conversation.
"We hit our mark," she responded. "Your private donation was very much appreciated."
"My absolute pleasure."
"Pleasure? One of my favorite words," announced Natalie Llewellyn as she entered Zen's space. She stood so close that the pointed toe of her stilettos jabbed his black dress shoes. Sheathed in strapless black satin, her hair in a tight French twist, she breathed money and confidence.
Aaron, Zen noted, appeared grim. Eyes narrowed, he stood stiffly behind her, visibly ill at ease.
"Not physical pleasure," Zen informed Natalie. "Financial satisfaction. Donating to a worthy cause."
Natalie rolled her eyes. "We're still focused on the kiddie playground?"
Stevie took the slam with grace. "It's more than a playground," she explained. "Construction will include a brand new recreation center, swimming pool, and tennis courts."
"The ceiling was falling in on the old building," Aaron added. "The swimming pool had started leaking like a sieve."
Natalie turned to Aaron. "You pulled off this charity event. Pat yourself on the back."
Aaron shook his head. "It was never just me. The weekend would have bombed without Stevie. She took up the reins, organized, did the leg work."
Natalie finally acknowledged Stevie. Zen watched her look Stevie over with a critical eye. Natalie's smile didn't reach her eyes. Barely tipped her lips. "I'm Natalie. You must be Stevie, one of Aaron's old friends."
Zen sensed Stevie's insecurities. She was feeling fat and outclassed as she shook Natalie's hand. A long-fingered, lily-white hand that Zen knew felt as soft as hand cream compared to Stevie's own athletically callused palm.
"Aaron and I have a history," Stevie finally managed.
Natalie sniffed. "A short history, from what I understand. Though he may appreciate your setting the stage, the major league players supplied the weekend draw." She shot Aaron a warning look. "Don't involve yourself further."
"Aaron grew up in Frostproof," Zen said, entering the conversation. "From what I understand, local sports fans gather at the VFW to watch the Tampa Bay games each spring. The town backs its hometown boy."
Stevie drew in a breath. "I'd hoped Aaron would return to cut the ribbon on the new recreation facility."